


Fake Out

by sonofasheriff (LadyMeltintalle)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Time, Fuck Or Die, M/M, PWP, Psychological Horror, slight dubcon as fuck or die fics tend to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMeltintalle/pseuds/sonofasheriff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was the last one, the coup de grâce of Peter’s horrible five step recovery program to regain his strength. He must have saved him for last because it would be poetic, or perhaps because he couldn't sniff out any more virgins that weren't literally shouting from the rooftops (or wearing it on their fingers) about their virginity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fake Out

**Author's Note:**

> \- Just running on a bastardized theory of why virgins of Beacon Hills are dropping dead. If anyone else has wrote a similar idea it was merely coincidence because I haven't read Sterek fic in months!
> 
> \- Heads up: This is fucked up.
> 
> \- Only compatible up to Season 3, episode 3: Fireflies.

It didn’t seem like they would ever make it to Derek’s apartment. Stiles ran next to Derek as fast as his human legs would carry him, heart pounding hard and irregular in his chest like tennis shoes in the dryer. If he had a moment to stop and think, he would realize that running couldn’t save them; that Peter would find him anyway and could definitely run faster than him. But Derek told him to run so he listened, because listening to Derek had been a new thing they were trying out and sometimes Derek listened to Scott and Stiles too and it almost sort of worked. Or at least it was working, until they figured out the one murdering virgins was Derek’s uncle; sacrificial lambs to build his own power back. Stiles tried to tell everyone he was no good, but Derek insisted he was still useful.

Yeah, useful and deadly and waiting to brain Stiles with a blunt object, strangle him and then slit his throat. Stiles was the last one, the coup de grâce of Peter’s horrible five step recovery program to regain his strength. He must have saved him for last because it would be _poetic,_ or perhaps because he couldn’t sniff out any more virgins that weren’t literally shouting from the rooftops (or wearing it on their fingers) about their virginity. He didn’t think that werewolves could literally smell virginity, at least he hoped not because that would be weird.

Either way, Peter had been trying to catch him for a little over twenty hours, but with everyone’s help they’d managed to avoid him thus far. He’d almost succeeded about twenty minutes ago, trying to use his horrible psychic scare tactics to chase Stiles out of Deaton’s ash-surrounded clinic. Spiders, he’d used spiders on Stiles. With the girl in the woods he used huge beetle things, on Heather he’d used exploding wine bottles and who knows what he used on the other two; it was all mental though, an illusion. He’d used it on Lydia with worms and wolfsbane flowers and wolf fur and God knew what else; she’d never gave him the full details of Peter’s mental torture he’d inflicted, but the little bit she did reveal was the key to figuring out it was him all along, anyway.

“Why… are we… going to… your apartment,” Stiles wheezed as he ran, a stitch in his side and a cramp in his calf that could bring him to tears if he stopped moving.

“Privacy,” Derek said and Stiles frowned.

“What do we nee- _Oh my God,_ ” Stiles almost yelled, skidding to a stop on the sidewalk right in front of Derek’s apartment. “Are you serious?!”

Derek stopped and looked back at Stiles, stormy and annoyed that Stiles halted.

“Got any other brilliant ideas?” Derek asked, holding his arms out to the world as if he was welcoming any other solution. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re out of options here. Peter is going to find you no matter where we hide you.”

“With _you,_ though?!” Stiles protested, but he was completely thunderstruck and skeptical more than repelled by the idea. If he could catch a breath and maybe if his legs didn’t hurt so bad, he might have even been aroused.  Derek took it as an insult though, looking hurt but still remarkably hot in his stupid tight jeans and ridiculously small t-shirt that didn’t quite fit over his ridiculously huge biceps. Yeah, Stiles could appreciate, but that’s all it had ever been. He’d never contemplated _that._

“Know anyone else in Beacon Hills that’s going to believe you when you say you have to get laid or die?” Derek asked, folding his arms in that annoyingly condescending way he does. “Use that pickup line in a bar, I dare you. Or maybe you’d rather ask Scott.”

“ _Hell_ no,” Stiles grimaced, trying extremely hard not to imagine how horribly awkward that would be. He could make jokes about wanting to make out with Scott, but he’d never ever been serious. He’d rather try to score with one of the alphas than ask Scott. “Why do I always get stuck in these do or die situations with you?”

“You think I’m any less disturbed about this?” Derek said, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking distressed. “Get your ass up those stairs before I leave you out here.”

“Aw, man,” Stiles whined, flailing with frustration and forcing himself to walk.

Stiles could feel Derek coming up the stairs behind him, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine but he’d never admit it. Of course Derek had never even entered his mind when he’d thought about losing his virginity; but neither had the fact that it would be an emergency situation. Not that he expected candles and a Bryan Adams album playing in the background or anything; he’d been willing to lose it on the concrete floor of Heather’s basement, but the idea of it being with Derek in his apartment was surreal.

His legs barely carried him up the last step, onto Derek’s landing and through his huge, pretentious, sliding metal door. Derek walked in behind him and locked the door, an ominous grinding of metal on metal as the lock clanged into place.  Stiles was nervous, so fucking nervous he could hardly stand.

“Surround the room with this; I’ll be right back,” Derek said, dropping a sizable draw-stringed bag in Stiles’ arms. Stiles loosened the cinch a little and saw mountain ash, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough to keep Peter out of his mind. He did as he was told anyway, fingers shaking as he sprinkled it around the perimeter of Derek’s wide open loft. He stopped at Derek’s bedroom doorway, waiting for Derek to cross the threshold before he closed the circle. Not only was Peter physically blocked out, Derek was blocked in. With Stiles. _Oh, God._

“Derek, I don’t know if I can- _mmphhm,_ ” Stiles tried to say, cut off by Derek’s mouth against his. Why were all the kisses he’d received in his life surprises? At one point he’d like to actually accept one with grace; not that he was complaining.

Maybe he should be embarrassed with how enthusiastically he kissed back; this was supposed to be necessity right? Not recreation, not for fun, not because Derek was actually making him hard with just his tongue licking the seam of Stiles’ lips. Kissing Derek was like having the world flipped upside down, falling downward toward heaven in spite of all the hell they'd been through lately. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders without thinking about how willing it made him seem. He didn’t want Derek to know how badly he was suddenly craving it, his body heat flaring wherever Derek’s hands groped.

Derek walked him backward clumsily through the kisses, probably aiming for the couch but Stiles’ ass hit the metal table that he had laid his blueprint of the bank on only a week beforehand. Maybe he would be embarrassed later, maybe he wouldn’t, but he hopped himself on the table, eagerly pulling Derek between his knees and gasping when Derek bypassed his mouth and went for his neck.  Derek swirled his tongue over Stiles’ throat, dragging his bottom teeth across the sensitive skin as he leaned his knuckles on the cold metal. Stiles’ hands gripped Derek’s arms, holding on as he arched into the grazing bite that made little sparks tingle everywhere on his body.

“Derek,” he gasped, all pretending to not want what Derek was offering out the window when he felt Derek’s fingertips slide up the back of his shirt.

He let go of Derek long enough to shuck his plaid button-up and t-shirt. Derek’s warm hands immediately fell to Stiles’ exposed chest, grazing his thumbs over Stiles’ nipples as he leaned in to kiss him again. Stiles moaned against his mouth, leaning back on his palms as Derek leaned further in over Stiles. All the oxygen was gone from the room, and Stiles wasn’t sure he could breathe anymore when Derek’s mouth dropped down to his collar bone, nipping and leaving a couple kisses as he put his hands in the crook of Stiles’ elbow, pushing until Stiles’ arms buckled and made him lean all the way back on his elbows. It was unnecessary because Stiles surely would have dropped back that way as soon as Derek’s tongue swiped over his nipple, anyway. His cock jumped with every swirl and suck, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching a hand up to tangle in Derek’s hair.

Derek’s hands roamed down Stiles’ stomach, over his hips and down his thighs; the strong, massaging motions everywhere but his cock and the nips at his chest were driving him nuts. He knew Derek was going to tease him far too long so he took matters into his own hands, lifting himself off his elbows and grabbing Derek around the jaws. He pulled him up, fascinated how just the scrape of Derek’s stubble against his palm made his cock throb. Stiles kissed Derek as he leveled with him and hooked his ankles behind Derek’s thighs, drawing him in. They both moaned when Stiles pressed Derek as far between his legs as hard as he could, so fucking relieved to feel that Derek’s cock against his jeans was as hard as his own.

 _That fucking faker wanted this too,_ Stiles thought, smiling as he dragged Derek’s bottom lip between his teeth and used the power in his legs to grind against him. Derek dropping his head against Stiles’ neck and hearing him moan was more satisfaction than Stiles needed, and he almost came from sheer exhilaration.

“Don’t come,” Derek rumbled against Stiles’ throat. Apparently he could sense that Stiles was on the edge. “Has to count.”

“Then cut the foreplay, Romeo,” Stiles retorted, but his voice was much shakier than he’d intended. What was he saying? He had no idea what it was like to get fucked. He had no misconceptions about how this was going to end with him on the bottom, but all he’d ever experienced as far as gay sex was porn. Yeah, he had watched it; there wasn’t a type of porn on the internet that Stiles’ I.P. address hadn’t touched on at least once, but that’s all it was. Porn. What if he couldn’t go through with it? What if it hurt? What if Derek didn’t use lube? Did werewolves need lube? “Do you have-“

“Yeah,” Derek said, leaning back and pulling a little capped bottle from his back pocket. Stiles wasn’t sure how he could fit anything in those skin tight pockets, especially a cylinder, but he didn’t question it.

“Condom?”

“No, but you do,” Derek said, leaning over him again and reaching in Stiles’ back pocket. Stiles’ breath caught in his throat as Derek hovered over him, looking just as eager to pounce Stiles even with the interruption. Derek held the XXL condom that Stiles’ hadn’t managed to get rid of between his middle and forefinger in front of Stiles’ face. Stiles swallowed hard.

“I-is that-… will that work for you?” Derek nodded and Stiles shuddered. “I was afraid you’d say that. This is definitely going to hurt.”

Derek didn’t deny it, but Stiles’ cock hadn’t lost any interest in the slightest, and then Derek’s head disappeared. He’d bent to swipe his hot tongue along the indents of Stiles’ pelvis peeking over his jeans. Stiles groaned a little, falling back on his palms but they were too sweat slicked and slid on the metal as he tried not to buck his crotch against Derek’s face embarrassingly.

When Derek’s palm slid over his cock he dropped to his elbows again, his breaths coming shallow and tinged with a whine.

“Derek, I can’t-“ he started, unable to resist grinding up into Derek’s palm and groaning. “Don’t tease, we don’t- _ah!_ We don’t have time.”

But Derek was an asshole through and through; Stiles had never been more convinced of that than in this moment as Derek’s thumb traced lightly around the outline of his erection. He popped the button on Stiles’ jeans with the other hand, slow and making eye contact with his flashy red irises and Stiles was 100% certain that werewolves were a kink and he had it bad. As the zipper clicked over each tooth on its path downward Stiles felt like his sanity was being dragged down with it. Derek tugged his jeans down his hips just enough to reveal the cock straining against his underwear.

“Please, just-“ Stiles started, but Derek’s hot mouth dampened the cotton around his cock and his brain fried. He dropped back on his elbows again and let his hips lift off the table against the wet, cruel tongue through his underwear.

But then his mouth was gone and Stiles whined, but it was quickly replaced by a gasp as the rest of his pants, underwear and shoes were removed with one drag downward from under his thighs. His cock leaked against his stomach and his cheeks flushed as he watched Derek’s eyes take his _everything_ in. Fingertips gripped his hips and pulled him toward the end of the table. Stiles gasped, his sweat let his ass slide easily over the table toward Derek’s face.

“No, Derek, don’t. I’m going to die if you- _Holy fuck,_ ” Stiles cried, arching his back as Derek picked up his cock and circled his mouth just around the tip. Stiles felt his balls try to betray him, but he fought it off with deep breaths. His stubby fingernails tried to dig at the metal as Derek’s mouth took him deeper and the head of his cock hit the back of Derek’s throat. He made the mistake of looking down, but Derek was already looking up at him, mouth full of Stiles and fucking loving it. Stiles reached forward and grabbed his hair, definitely pulling hard enough to hurt but Derek didn’t waver. The tight, incredible heat around his cock made his heartbeat pound in his ears and his whole body shook with the effort it took to not come. Derek kept bobbing, working the base of Stiles’ cock with one hand and the other one holding Stiles’ hips still so he didn’t get choked.

Stiles let go of Derek’s hair and dropped his whole body back on the table, writhing and panting.

“Please,” Stiles whined again, the sparks of pleasure thrumming through every nerve in his body now. He could feel the suction of Derek’s mouth all the way down to his toes. “Just fuck me, Derek, please.”

Without warning Stiles felt a slick finger slide down his crack. He shuddered and felt every muscle in his body clench from the jolt of contact down there. He hadn’t even heard Derek snap open the lid of the lube, or maybe he’d just used spit; Stiles didn’t know but with every circle that finger made against his entrance Derek did a twist of the fist he had around Stiles’ base and he couldn’t form a thought anymore. He couldn’t sit up, he couldn’t watch as Derek pressed his finger inside of him. He held both hands over his face, squirming as Derek sunk the finger deeper. It drew him out of his blissed out state of mind because it was fucking weird but still good. He’d fingered himself before, but Derek’s finger was thicker, foreign, but working him open so easily.

The second finger only hurt for a second, and when Derek curled them both up Stiles pushed down against them, his hands groping for anything to hold on to so he didn’t fall off the earth. One hand found his own hair and he tugged and he bit his lip as Derek’s hands worked his cock and ass at the same time.

“Derek,” he breathed desperately, “Don’t- don’t waste this. Please, I can’t-“

Derek must have believed him that time, because suddenly everything was gone. Stiles’ body protested the retreat, his cock jerking by itself against his stomach. When he opened his eyes his heart stopped.

All he could see were bodies, dead and hanging from the rafters above where he laid on the table, lifeless eyes blankly staring at him. He screamed and tried to scramble away as their blood dripped down on him, but something held him to the spot. He looked to his left and it was more the same, just rows and rows of naked, human bodies hanging by their ankles with meat hooks. Among them was Heather, the Emily girl, the boy, and the other kid he hadn’t actually seen but he knew that’s who it was; throats slashed just like he remembered.

“ _Stiles, listen to me_ ,” he heard vaguely, but when he looked down where Derek was there was another body, animated and looking at him with sickening, milky blue eyes. “ _Stiles it’s not real. It’s not real, it’s okay. Hey, it’s okay._ ”

Stiles shut his eyes again, but he couldn’t stop screaming and trying to get away. The only thing that brought him back was feeling a warm body pressed against him and he remembered where he was. With Derek, safe, surrounded by mountain ash and Derek and it was almost over.

“ _It’s okay, you’re okay, he can’t touch you,_ ” the voice said soothing but desperate, and Stiles’ mind let him believe it was Derek this time. He didn’t open his eyes, just wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and held on tight.

“Just do it, please,” Stiles said, trembling and breathing in Derek’s sweat and hair gel scent. Derek pushed in and it fucking hurt and Stiles definitely cried and he was absolutely certain nobody had voluntarily lost their virginity this horribly in the entire history of the world, but it was done. Derek pumped his hips a couple times and Stiles came, digging his dull nails into Derek’s shoulders so hard he hard to be hurting him.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Derek whispered the mantra against his neck as Stiles came down, his body still shaking from the stress and the fear. He knew it was fake now but he was still afraid to open his eyes. “He’s not going to hurt you.”

“You don’t know that,” Stiles said, his voice raw and quiet. He just realized that Derek was running his hands over Stiles’ back, soft and soothing and kind. Another fear took root in his chest; what if this was the last time Derek wanted to be with him?

“I won’t let it happen,” Derek said, pulling back to hold Stiles face. “Look at me.”

Stiles opened his eyes, still half worried that it would be Peter or the corpse or some other horrible thing that Peter could conjure up. Derek’s worried eyes met his, and for a moment Stiles almost believe that Derek could protect him.

“Jesus Christ, that was weird,” Stiles said, having to look away from Derek’s eyes. The humiliation was starting to sink in, and he tried to wiggle off the table. “I’m so sorry you had to do that.”

“Stiles, I wanted to,” Derek said, letting him go even though his words begged him to stay. Stiles slid off the table and started to pick up his clothes, not able to face him because he was definitely lying. “Stiles, I mean it.”

Stiles nodded, finally looking at him after stepping into his jeans without the underwear. “Well, after I collect the pieces of my sanity… call me.”

Derek just nodded slightly, still looking at Stiles like he might crack again. “You can stay, if you want.”

Stiles pulled the phone out of his pocket. “I have thirty-seven missed calls from Scott.”

Derek checked his phone too. “Thirteen for me, three from Isaac. They must have found something.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, pulling on his shirt, and it suddenly felt like business as usual. “Hopefully it’s Deucalion’s head on a spike.”

Derek nodded, and then wordlessly prepared for another fun-filled night of death and torment in Beacon Hills.

Stiles didn’t expect Derek to call him after that night, wouldn’t have dreamed of it, not with all the shit they had to deal with. When he got a text from Derek at three in the morning on a Wednesday night asking if he was busy, he realized he’d just gotten his very first booty call, and he couldn’t have been more pleased.


End file.
